The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1887-10-01
Select STORY.
THE BLUE CHAMBER At ORMESCLIFFE.

TTOM TIC Hby"'y'
Two pretty women sat talking by fire
light one autumn evening. A tea-table,
splendid with old crown Derby, and asatln
cozy embroidered to match cooked on the
top of the old silver teapot, stood between
them, and the third volume of the last
popular novel lay on the wolf-skin rug just
where Lynette had dropped it, when even
her bright eyes could read no longer. She
was slim, fair-faced girl, with outlines a
thought too sharp for prettiness, alert and
sensitive to the fnger-tips. Her keen,
bright face took dozen varying shades OF
expression while she spoke as many words;
her hair waved crisply, her eyes were gray,
dilating and deepening with the intensity
of her meaning. She was kneeling on the
rug tormenting the big burning log in the
CRATE with a toy brass poker, and watching
the blue flames and red sparks come and
go while she talked. Her sister listened
behind her peacock fan, calmly and reason
ably, as was her wont. - -
: aNo marriage can ever be happy" de-
clared Lynette, in her thin, musical, child
ish voice, "without perfect love and trust. '
II think l have heard something like
that before" remarked Mrs. Featherstone
in her full contralto, "besides, l never dis
puted the statement, did II"
"Why, Lola Didn't you say that a
wife had right to a mans present and
future, but his past was his own p
"Something of the kind" Lola admitted.
''I also said that it was queer way of dis
playing your perfect trust in a man to in
sist on knowing all his secrets"
"Trust me not at all or all in all y quoted
Lynette emphatically.
"And nice position Merlin got into by
acting on the advice" commented Lola.
Lynette shrugged her shoulders, and
gave the log furious blow, sending sparks
in showers about Lola meditatively stroked
the soft plush of her tea-gown with her
dimpled, white hand, glancing approvingly
at the sparkle of the gems that encrusted
it, and then spoke with authority from the
depths of her basket-chair.
"My dear child, it was wise woman
who said, Never insist on being your hus-
bands first love; be content if you are sure
of being his last. "
II would never set eyes on John again
if 1 were not perfectly certain of being the
one and the otherr' Lynette replied, her
color rising and her eyes darkening. Our
lives are to be one, with one opinion, one
ideal, one set of tastes and feelings"
"Whose? Yours or his? And how
about yachting p interposed Miss Feather
stone.
"Lola! When you know l have ordered
three yachting suits for my trousseau-a
blue, and white, and Galatea! Ofcourse,
1 shall try to go with him, I can but be
wretched, but if he's pleased it's all right"
''You are good little thing, Lynette,"
said her sister, affectionately; "but you see
agreement on every point is physically i'm
possible, l wish you would admib the prin-
ciple in all things. 1t will save world
of disappointment and dispersed illusions" /"
Lynette's eyes grew dewy and her lips
quivered.
"Let me keep my illusions while / can,
then. You and Mark may have your
views of married happiness. John and I
would rather come to grief in striving after
high ideal than sneak through life con-
tented with having realized low one.
Lola was silent. She had never con-
sciously formed any ideal, and wouldn't
have distressed herself by striving after it
if she had or any consideration. She had
a beautiful, well-ordered home, pretty
little year-old baby son, kind, considerate
husband, and was the handsomest woman
in the county. How could her life be pos
sibly improved on 2
II bed your pardon, Lola p broke out
Lynette impulsively. Il didn't mean
that is, didn't think eqghta't to have
said SO to you. What a laundering egotis-
tical wretch am p
Lola's great brown eyes opened wide III
utter bewilderment; then, following Ly-
pette's glance across the room, became en-
lightened aud half closed their curly fringed
lids in perfect indifference, A halflength
portrait hung on the wall facing the fire.
A portrait of pretty woman Of a certain
order of prettiness, the sort that curiously
enough is never admitted by other women,
however attractive men may findit. Ruddy
brown hair, coiled high upon the head after
the fashion of some ten years ago, and rip
pling across low white forehead; long eyes
of bright blue, with half closed, heavy
white eyelids, small mouth, with full,
red lips, and a soft raqHd chin With dim
pie like baby's.
"Did you think | should be sensitive